


The Real Story of Zosan

by remesy



Category: One Piece
Genre: Character Analysis, Drama, Gay, Humor, Love, M/M, Nakama, Nakamaship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22012003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remesy/pseuds/remesy
Summary: A close observation of Zoro and Sanji, and how they've developed their relationship from pre-timeskip to post-timeskip.This is a romantic fic, focusing on Baratie, Skypiea, Thriller Bark, Time Skip period, Whole Cake Island, and Wano; as well as what happens afterwards. And this is as real as the story of Zosan can get in parallel to the canon story...
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 12
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I am not trying to say this is exactly how it went. Most of the parts are due to my imagination, observation as well as analysis, and I would love to know how you'd interpret their interactions. There are parts that will obviously be made up, but hopefully it makes sense on how I filled in the blanks between the canon stories.
> 
> Anyways, this is a small time off from "Karma," but I've had this idea spontaneously and wanted to write it out. I hope you enjoy!

_Baratie Arc_

It was all still new to him.

The rubber kid who could stretch his arms out and bloat his stomach to the size of a hot air balloon, the suspicious red haired navigator who had a habit of stealing and manipulating, and the long nosed liar who boasted about his thousand men at sea when, in fact, he had just been a leader of a kid's gang. And now there is this womanizing idiot who turns to mush at every woman in sight; though, even he had to admit the food was fucking delicious.

He was almost in awe seeing the hearts appear in the blond's eyes when the navigator gave him a hug, as a gratitude for the free food she had coyly drawn out of him.

 _A bunch of weirdos_ , Zoro thought, not knowing how weird it could truly get after entering the Grand Line.

On the other hand, Sanji hardly took notice of the green haired man sitting amongst the long nosed man and the cute red haired girl, whom he believed was called Nami. Despite the fact that she was flirting with him to get free food out of him, he didn't mind because food did not equate in value with money. Only he and Zeff knew this, to the core of their beliefs, as the bag of gold was truly useless when faced with their starvation.

Not that Nami was starving, she was just beautiful and Sanji had a weak spot for beautiful women!

Call him a masochist, but he loved being used by women, or anything related to women.

After all, other than Zeff and his kitchen staff, women were the only ones emanating with warmth and love when he was just a young boy.

What made Sanji notice the swordsman was, of course, the fight with Mihawk. He didn't know the guy, but there was a pang of guilt, of terror sprouting in his heart the very moment Mihawk sliced across his chest. What did he fear? For this guy to die?

A part of him wanted Zoro to give up his pride. What does a dream matter if you are dead?

He is such an idiot, he thought, who'd rather die with pride intact than continue living for his dreams. But another part of him, secretly tucked away at the depth of his soul, trembled. Much like a tsunami hitting the land. A man who relished in the thin line of life and death, willing to give up everything for his dream. Sanji had never felt so simultaneously terrified and enraptured by somebody before.

The calm waters inside of him stirred, and the dreams he had left behind in hopes of repaying his old man clutched his heart.

With this new feeling in his chest, he knew he had to look for his ocean.

The All Blue.

* * *

_Skypiea Arc_

In the heat of the moment, when Zoro grabbed their archaeologist and growled "She's a woman" to Enel, he thought back to the conversation with Sanji a few weeks prior before their ship shot up into the sky.

Their relationship had developed as the roles of the crew solidified, with Sanji attuned to his duties as a chef and Zoro to his duties as a swordsman; and, despite the lack of interaction or conversation they still managed to irritate the hell out of one another. It was almost a daily routine for him. Eat, sleep, workout, fight with the cook, take a nap, and repeat.

Quite honestly, he didn't know what to make out of Sanji. He knew as a nakama and a cook he was reliable, though he would never say these words out loud; but something deeply bothered him about the cook.

He served the ladies on the Going Merry like their personal slave, with their morning coffee, afternoon snacks and teas, and a sweet dessert after dinner. He acted like an idiot around them, fawning over how beautiful they were with his arms swinging around, his eyes in the shape of hearts, but Zoro noticed the distance Sanji placed between himself and others.

He never asked for a single thing, not from the women or the rest of them.

He always did his own thing in the kitchen, day and night, fought with them when marines attacked, fawned over the women and scolded the guys on occasions, but it always seemed like he was alone. When he thought no one was looking, he would glance at the vast sea surrounding them and his eyes would glaze with the images of the past; the blue orbs reflecting the ocean and the deeply seated sadness weighing in his chest.

Zoro always felt it, even when he tried to ignore it.

What Sanji desperately tried to hide, and what others didn't seem to notice about him, the swordsman was able to pick it up effortlessly. He had no explanation for how he was able to do such a thing, nor did he care to find out.

It irritated the shit out of him. He didn't give a shit about why the cook was holding onto such a suffocating amount of sadness; if anything, he wanted to beat the shit out of Sanji and tell him to stop holding back, from his own nakama, his past, his feelings, whatever it was that he was running away from.

"Oi, stop glaring at me like that. What's your problem?" the blond made his way toward him after his afternoon flailing around Robin and Nami.

Zoro wanted to say what was on his mind, but he also knew it wasn't his place. Every one of them had a past that they didn't like talking about.

So instead he just said the next thing on his mind, "You're distracting my training with your annoying mating calls."

Sanji just gave him a shit eating grin that the swordsman wanted to beat out of his face. "Is the little mossy jealous that he's not getting enough attention?" he cooed.

"You fucking wish," he growled, unable to start a physical fight with him due to the heavy weight resting on his shoulders. He felt beads of sweat dripping down his temples, falling onto his chest, which he noticed Sanji was watching rather closely.

Feeling the strain of his muscles and veins popping out of his forearms, with a final huff he rested the weights on the wooden floor and heard the creak below him. He was afraid the Going Merry would give out under the heavy weight, but she remained sturdy like she had always been.

The blond's attention was refocused on the sea, with a cigarette in his mouth and the wisps of smoke floating into the sky.

As Zoro wiped down the sweat off of his face and body with a towel, he was reminded of the conversation from moments ago. "Women are only going to think of you as a slave if you keep on doting on them like that, and they actually hate it when you treat them fragile," he told Sanji, reminded of the females who played pivotal roles in his life.

He couldn't see the difference between men and women, reminded of Kuina beating his ass with a bamboo stick thousands of times.

Sanji was surprised by the sudden comment, as his visible eye widened and his lips parted slightly. He was contemplating whether to lightheartedly shrug it off with a "fuck off" comment or respond seriously to the green haired man, whom he didn't even know had thoughts like these.

"They _are_ physically more fragile than men," he responded, blowing out a wisp of smoke.

Zoro recalled the way Kuina held her chest in her hands and cried about how they would eventually be her downfall as a swordswoman, but he didn't want that to be the reason for beating Kuina. He stubbornly refused to believe that there was a difference in strength between men and women.

"You mean to say they're _weak_ ," he reworded his words bluntly.

Sanji rolled his eyes, " _No_ , you brute. Let me explain this to you and make it simple enough for you to understand. They may be physically weaker than men because that's how we were made biologically, but they aren't _weak_. Women are stronger than us in every other way; emotionally and mentally."

The swordsman frowned because he'd never thought about the differences between men and women so thoroughly, assuming that they were exactly the same.

"But it's true that I just—I have this need to protect them. Like the way they protected me…" he drifted off, his eyes glazed with the memories of his past again.

So that's why Zoro blamed the cook for this sudden feeling of protectiveness over the archaeologist, whom he didn't even consider his nakama yet.

He knew how strong Robin was with her Devil Fruit powers, but the way Enel mercilessly crippled her with his lightning brought a zap of adrenaline into his body.

"She's a woman," he growled, the echo of Sanji's voice in his head.

"I noticed," Enel calmly responded.

* * *

_Thriller Bark Arc_

_You shitty swordsman_ , _I'm going to kill you if you're not dead already_ , he thought as he made his way toward Zoro.

He was limping, the side of his stomach bruised purple and green from the sudden jab from Zoro's sword, and with each step almost every part of his body screamed for him to stop, turn back, and get treated by Chopper. But he kept going, nerves fluttering in his stomach and his heart pounding in his ears.

 _You better not be dead, marimo_.

Clutching his wound, he made his way through the forest. It was daylight, with the sun peeking through the leaves and branches. Trees no longer animated to act as human beings as the souls safely returned to their owners after Luffy defeated Moria. He should've been relieved that he wasn't burning under the sun, but that was the furthest thing from what he felt.

He wondered where Kuma took him to and worried that Zoro was no longer on this island, or worse, that he had been respectfully buried already.

"FUCK!" he growled to himself, his voice traveling as an echo deeper into the forest.

How could he have let this happen? How did he not anticipated that the swordsman would knock him out to sacrifice himself?

When Sanji stood in front of Kuma, he was prepared for death. With every bit of strength and resolve left in his body, he recognized his duty in that moment, to lay his life down for not only the lives of others but their dreams also. He thought back to Zoro's tears when he swore to his captain that he would never lose another fight, to all those moments Luffy fought for his nakama and the dreams of others, and brief flashes of all of his nakama's faces when they declared their dreams.

If not for them, his dream to look for All Blue would've been tucked away anyways; and compared to the dreams of others, could he really say his was anywhere near as important?

And Zoro, whose dream was only second to Luffy's, worked tremendously hard every day and night to actualize his dream of becoming the best swordsman. Sanji didn't want him to throw it away, not for him or anybody else.

 _He_ , on the other hand, actually had nothing to lose or so he believed.

Sanji only felt remorse when he thought of Zeff, his kitchen staff, and the faces of their nakama when he stormed up a buffet for them. In his iron will and resolve, there was a small crack of sadness thinking that he would never see their faces again.

And it was in that one faltering moment that Zoro knocked him out.

The path in front of him led to an open space, and Sanji's legs almost gave out when he saw a standing figure in the middle of the field. He sped up his pace, unable to feel the pain shooting up in his legs or the sting of his clothes rubbing against his wounds anymore. What mattered was reaching Zoro, _making sure_ that he was alright with his own eyes.

"Oi! You freaked me out! Where did that shichibukai go?" he asked, relieved to see the man still standing.

But when he reached the scene, his heart sank at the sight of the green haired man covered in blood and the large puddle of blood around him, as though his body had exploded but was hastily put back together.

"Why the hell is there so much blood!? Are you still alive? Where did that guy go? What on earth happened here?" he shouted, and he couldn't help it. All those questions spurted out of him in an anxious tangent, wondering how much he'd suffered in Sanji's and others' stead.

 _Fuck_ , he cursed again, so much fucking shame coursing through his body for passing out, laying there unconsciously while Zoro went to hell and came back with gritted teeth.

"Nothing...at all…" the swordsman strained to speak, his eyes barely held open.

"Oi, oi," Sanji raced forward as Zoro's body began to tip over, and caught him in his arms.

The green haired man fell into a deep state of unconsciousness, the last fiber of restraint breaking as he was relieved that a nakama was next to him. The cook felt Zoro's mostly dried up blood, ripped up shirt, and hard muscles in his hands.

"You idiot," he muttered as tears began to well up in his eyes.

He was relieved to find Zoro alive, more so than he would've ever thought; and the sort of emotions surging inside of him was different than when Mihawk sliced across his chest. He knew it wasn't for _him_ specifically, but the swordsman sacrificed himself and his dream for every member of the crew including Sanji.

"Eup," he uttered as he hoisted the swordsman's body on his back, legs wrapped around his waist and head fallen in between the corner of his neck.

Despite the amount of blood he'd lost, he was still warm, pressed up against the back of Sanji's body.

He felt Zoro's heartbeat, slow and steady; the sign of life. The same as when he pressed his hand on his chest to remind himself that he was still alive, during the time his body was consuming the remaining fat stored left inside his body and Zeff was eating his own leg to survive on the other side of the rock.

By the time he'd reached the crew with Zoro on his back, Chopper was on his feet treating everybody. Luffy was, despite the critical blows he'd received the night prior, was jumping around. Then Sanji heard the rest of the story from the two men who'd seen it all from their hiding space, about how Zoro took the pain of their captain, that even a small dosage of the bubble he'd received from Kuma had him quavering with an unbelievable amount of pain.

Sanji strolled off from his nakama for a few minutes after listening to the story, with a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Wandering aimlessly, he reached the edge of the island where he had a clear vision of the sea in front of him. Though he was born on land, it was at sea, where he was raised, that he felt at home.

The shame, guilt, and self hatred was a consequence of his lack of resolve.

If it came down to it, he wasn't sure if he could eat his own legs, dive into a massive bubble of unbearable pain, or grasp the thread of life if death stood in front of him. And what about his All Blue? Clearly his resolve to find this idealistic sea was weaker than his captain's will to become the Pirate King or Zoro's to beat Mihawk.

Sanji was the sort of person whose past attached to him, like a tree with its memories as soil.

His resolve to feed anybody who's hungry came from his traumatizing memories of starvation. His desire to cook for others came from his mother's smile. Smoking was his act of rebellion against Zeff and fighting abilities was from being bullied by his brothers; or, it is more correct to say that they've fueled his anger enough for him to pass his physical limits.

But All Blue was…it was...what was it?

His chance at happiness? Escape? Notion of freedom? Didn't he already have all of that?

What drew him to his dream, unlike any other parts of himself, had no attachment to the past. Similar to the effects the sea had on him, All Blue was a desire, with no reason at all for why he wanted it so badly. It simply lured him in.

The smoke curled out of his tongue and dissolved into the soon to be night air, as the sun was beginning to fall.

 _I better make my way back_ , he thought, wondering for a flickering second whether Zoro woke up yet.

_I have to cook a feast for my nakama._

A few days later, the crew was packed up to leave the dreadful zombie island which had nothing for him except for one beautiful lady named Perona. Luffy invited another weird 'person' to the crew, a tall skeleton with an afro as if a talking reindeer and human robot wasn't already strange enough. Despite Brook's eccentric personality and behavior, which was understandable as he hadn't had any social interaction for fifty years, he actually had a lot in common with Sanji: their love for women and lewd behaviors, in addition to their love for the arts, if cooking can be considered an art.

For a few nights, the cook noticed a shift of behavior in the swordsman.

Typically, Zoro would take a bottle of sake to the crow's nest and spend the night alone, but recently he'd been keeping Sanji company until he finished his nightly chores.

They hadn't had the chance to talk about what happened in Thriller Park, partly because Sanji didn't know what to say about the incident. He had kept Zoro's sacrifice as a secret from the rest of the crew, as he understood the man's prideful nature (a quality they both shared), though there was a part of him that wanted to mention, what he considered, the elephant in the room.

But every time he tried, there seemed to be a lump caught in his throat. He'd never felt like this before, especially with the green haired man.

Tonight, Zoro was sitting behind him with a glass of sake in his hand. A typical alcoholic in his natural habitat. A comfortable silence lingered between them, only the sound of the running water as Sanji was cleaning the dishes.

"Oi, cook," he broke the silence, his voice gentler than it usually is when referring to Sanji. "Have a drink with me after."

Sanji stopped midtrack of washing the dishes, caught by the unexpected invitation. This was definitely something new. But he was able to maintain his cool and quickly come up with a response that wouldn't give away his surprise.

"I have to get up early in the morning," he replied with a monotonous voice.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, a few won't hurt," the swordsman insisted, which was another strange, out of the ordinary behavior for Zoro. It aroused Sanji's curiosity enough for him agree, but of course he wasn't going to say it verbally.

He just gave an acknowledging grunt, and he thought about how he was becoming more and more like Zeff every day.

Finishing up the rest of the dishes, locking up the refrigerator from his captain, and meal prepping for the next day, Sanji was finally able to dry his hands and sit across from Zoro who handed him a sake cup.

It was all too strange how civil it seemed between them.

Sanji downed the cup of sake and felt the familiar burn down his throat. A different type of burn from taking a heavy pull of his cigarettes. He wasn't much of a drinker; in fact, he was quite the lightweight.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of the swordsman's, Sanji felt discomfort in the pit of his stomach, the lump in his throat urging him to swallow a ball of saliva.

"Do you…" he broke the silence that no longer felt comfortable, "want any food with this?"

He couldn't help it. He was a chef, goddammit; and food felt like the solution for everything.

The swordsman disregarded him with a slight shake of his head, fondling the white sake glass with his fingers. It was an unusual sight to see a pensive look on his face. Sanji didn't even know this dunce was capable of thinking—only sleeping, drinking, fighting, and getting lost!

"I was prepared to die that day," Zoro admitted to him, in a voice that suggested that this was a big secret, something he had been wanting to say. "I thought that paw guy was going to take my life instead of Luffy's."

The blond had a way with words, a natural conversationalist, but this time he found himself with a dry mouth and an empty head.

"I know," he assured Zoro.

He didn't know how to react, this was all too strange and new for him. Was he about to have a heart to heart with the marimo? Who would've thought.

"I wasn't scared of death, I never was," a confession that Sanji already knew about him already, seeing how he almost cut his ankles off to survive and recklessly stood in front of Mihawk's sword to be cleaved in half. "But I was scared when you stood there in front of me," he told him earnestly, his gaze unwavering and piercing into Sanji's blue eyes.

"You were scared that I was going to die?" he asked, half teasing, half serious. His heart was thumping in his ears.

Zoro grunted, "You are such a pain in the ass, standing in front of me when you could hardly stand, much less breathe. It's like you always want to be the knight in shining armor, like when you saved us in Alabasta as 'Prince', but I felt it—how much you didn't want to die. You didn't want to give up cooking for your nakama or your All Blue, but you were in front of me anyways. Why?"

There was an itch in his throat, which indicated that it was time for a cigarette.

With ease, he placed a cigarette in his mouth and flicked the lighter in front of him. A familiar motion, all done in steps of 1-2-3, and he blew out the smoke facing the ceiling.

"Isn't the answer obvious?" his tone serious now, a sudden shift in mood. This was no longer the Zoro he interacted with during the day, limited to exchanges filled with insults and teases. "You're my nakama, I would've done it for anybody in our crew."

Zoro furrowed his brows, a habit he had whenever he was in the middle of a battle or felt some sort of displeasure with the situation.

"Bullshit, cook." Before Sanji had the chance to protest, the swordsman cut him off to further explain himself. "You are so eager to throw your life and dream away that you would do it for _anybody_ , not just your nakama."

Annoyed by the sudden accusations and the condescending tone of voice Zoro carried with him, the cook bit down on the butt of his cigarette.

"What do _you_ know," hint of venom flowing freely out of his words.

Why did Zoro get under his skin so easily? As though there was a pool of emotions inside of him that only the swordsman could tap into; and for the life of him, couldn't get rid of the damn moss no matter how hard he tried.

With conviction, similar to how he forfeited his life to Kuma, he declared, "If my life is all that is needed to preserve the dreams of others, then I'll _gladly_ offer it up.

"Then what about _your_ dream, you fucking idiot!" the green haired man roared as he grabbed Sanji by the shirt, balling up the cotton fabric in his fist. He stood from his seat and pulled the blond closer to him. Their breaths mingled. The cigarette dropped to the table from the sudden shock of being pulled, the small cups of sake spilling and wetting his pants.

"What about _All Blue_ ," the swordsman asked, residue of anger in his voice but slightly gentler—so slight that no one but Sanji would notice the change.

The blond was thoroughly taken away by the emotions pouring out of Zoro, his eyes piercing into him with depth he'd never seen before. It was similar to being cradled by the earth, in contrast to the sea that he loved so much.

"I—" Sanji began, voice cracking, the lump in his throat bobbing up and down with his Adam's apple.

It was always difficult for him to open up to others, especially about matters involving his heart. Aside from his history with Zeff, his nakama did not know a thing about his past. Every one of them had a difficult history of their own and didn't divulge much about each others' pasts. So the stories about his real family and the abuse he underwent were buried deep inside of him; and as much as he hated it, those parts of his past also became nutrients for who he is now. Perhaps that's why he always kept to himself.

"I don't want All Blue if it means you or Luffy, or any of our nakama isn't there to see it with me," the cook confessed, his head cooling down rapidly as though someone poured cold water over his hot head.

The hold the swordsman had on him loosened, and he slumped back down on his seat with a heavy _umf_. Zoro, that is. Sanji believed he had more grace than the man in front of him.

"What a waste," Zoro referred to the sake that spilled all over the table, a sentiment Sanji could agree with.

The blond picked up the barely smoked cigarette from the puddle of booze, and the slight weight of his finger broke it in half. "Damn," he cursed, saddened by the broken cigarette, his spirit completely sapped by their conversation.

Zoro poured himself and Sanji another drink, which he accepted for some reason and they both downed it without another word.

After three or four cups, the blond felt the alcohol in his system starting to tinge his cheeks with what he knew was going to be a bright reddish hue resembling the rise of the sun at dawn. The spilled alcohol had evaporated rather quickly, and so his pants, the cigarette, and the table began to dry up. All in that order. The swordsman swished down cup after cup without any sign of getting drunk

 _I really should be going to bed_ , but he had no desire to stand.

"I felt relieved when you were there," the swordsman told the drunken cook who struggled to wriggle out another cigarette from his pocket.

The first image that came across his mind was Zoro in the middle of a field, with his blood sprayed around him.

"I was prepared for death. I was ready to handle the burden all alone. Then, all of a sudden, you were staggering there in front of me, ready to protect me," he recalled the scene, unfolding it from his perspective. "All of us are willing to lay our lives for one another, I know that, but that was the first time I thought you would die if I didn't do something about it."

Despite his inebriated senses, the blond was able to lucidly understand what Zoro was trying to tell him. He felt the same way when he woke up and was weaving his way through the forest.

But what came out of his mouth was, "You fuggin' mosshead," in a sluggish tone.

His head and chest were pounding erratically, and his naturally ivory skin was beginning to be flushed bright red.

" _Heh_?!" the swordsman voiced, clearly irritated for his sentiment to be tossed away like that, and if they weren't in the kitchen he might've swung his blade at Sanji.

The blond managed to place the cigarette in between his teeth, staring up at Zoro with a small grin on his face. "I'm not gonna die, you idiot, I'm stronger than you," he chuckled, a flick of his lighter in front of the cigarette.

Taken aback, the green haired man flinched before regaining his sense of composure. The rhythm of their relationship back in motion. The jibes, the playfulness, and always the fucking insults that usually led to a fight.

With that rare smile of his, Zoro leaned back and responded, "In your dreams, cook, maybe if you trained for a million more years."

"Eat shit," was the natural thing to say.

* * *

_Momoiro Island_

Those fucking okamas.

" _Sanji-kun_ — " one of them called after him in a cracked tone of voice, for speaking in a higher tone than a man was naturally allowed to; and the blond felt a violent shudder coursing throughout his body.

 _I hate men, I hate men, I hate men_ … a mantra repetitively ringing in his mind.

What did he do to deserve this? For two years he had to endure this, terrified by the possibility of being caught.

They already put him inside of a dress, to emphasize his 'feminine qualities', but that was fucking bullshit. Sanji was a _man_ with only masculine qualities. He had no interest in being a woman or attaining their feminine attributes; he only wanted to bury himself into the soft curves of a woman and be a scum of a man that he was meant to be.

Speaking of which, they even accused him of being interested in other men, or 'boys' as they called it.

"We can sniff those things out from a mile away Sanji-kewn— "

"You're a maiden in love!"

"Our womanly instincts are always accurate."

He was in the middle of a run, as fast as his feet allowed him. He felt his chest tighten and his lungs constricting, feeling as though a thousand needles were prickling him. Yet, he still had enough energy to shout behind him: "I AM NOT GAY!"

"So defensive!" they giggled simultaneously.

 _I love women, I love women, I love women…_ he told himself for those two hellish years, his only sanity residing inside of his dreams.

A woman's bedroom of pink wallpapers and silky white curtains; he could smell the flowery aroma wafting over to where he stood by the door. _Ah_ , could this be the night he lays with a beautiful maiden? he thought with a lewd grin. There was a small chuckle from behind those curtains.

The cook began to swing his left leg in front of his right, then his right in front of his left. Small steps toward the bed, with a mysterious woman behind those curtains waiting to be ravished.

 _This is it_ , he thought, swallowing his saliva.

"Here I go, _mellorine~!_ " he shouted before diving between those white curtains and landing with a soft thud on the soft, bouncy mattress and a mass of flesh that was naked to touch.

"My… lady?"

Tanned and muscular body, gold earrings, and short green hair.

Another chuckle, "I didn't know you wanted me so badly, ero cook." The swordsman who laid beside him did not have a single piece of fabric to cover…

" _Gah!"_ he screamed out in terror, jumping out of his pink sheets..

* * *

_Kuraigana Island_

A few things began to clear up for Zoro as he spent his time with a tasteless swordsman and a squawking woman for those two years.

As a swordsman, he realized he was still a mountainous levels away from beating MIhawk; that perhaps the paw guy who made them disappear on Sabaody island had actually saved them; and that he might be in love with the idiot cook.

It wasn't a sudden revelation as one would like to believe, rather, it was a single thought that multiplied into many and began to take shape. Similar to a tumor.

It began with thinking about each and every member of his nakama, imagining where they were and what they were doing; then, when it was time to think about the cook, he recalled the last time he saw his face. A look of helplessness, one he had never seen on Sanji's face before. Before Kuma's palms hovered over Zoro, he wondered what thoughts were running through the cook's mind.

It tugged his heart in a strange way, to think about Sanji. He wasn't worried about him per say, because he knew that every member of his crew were strong enough to fend for themselves. This was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

"YOU IDIOT!" the squawking woman scolded him with a wave of her forefinger, floating over to him with a medical box in hand. "Why did you fight Mihawk's monkey again! You just healed from your wound, and you _know_ you can't beat him yet!" Despite the incessant noise that was her high pitched voice, she was constantly fixing him up. Applying antibacterial medicine and wrapping him up with bandages.

The swordsman instinctively pulled back the muscles of his face.

He was used to her nagging, but he couldn't get used to the sound of her voice; and over the months, he realized that there was no point in arguing with the pink haired girl whose actions were completely opposite of whatever came out of her mouth.

"I can't believe I'm even doing this for you, and that stupid old man is sitting in his chair drinking wine and talking on the den den mushi. He doesn't even have friends! Who is he talking to?" she continued her monologue about the brutes she had to live with and spent a fair amount of time glorifying Moria, the fat vampire Luffy defeated in Thriller Park.

"Oi," the swordsman broke her speech, in the midst of her talking about her servant bear and other servant zombies. "What does it mean when your chest starts to act up when you think about someone?" He didn't have Chopper around, so she was the closest thing to a medic who could answer this sort of question.

She narrowed her eyes, "Isn't it obvious?"

Zoro's eyebrows twitched. Was he dying or something?

The pink haired woman sighed, "I can't believe I'm living with an idiot who doesn't even know what love is."

"Lo-love?" the swordsman sputtered. If he had been drinking, he would've surely spat it up. "What are you talking about, I'm not in love," he protested, feeling his cheeks warming up in embarrassment.

"Yes you are!" she argued. "If your chest acts up when you're thinking about someone, that's the first sign. Then you start to think about them a lot, miss their presence, and you will eventually want to hold them. It's all signs of being in love!"

Zoro was flustered. He didn't have anything to say. He could neither deny or accept her accusations.

As time passed by, he found himself beginning to miss various things about the cook. His food for one, because Perona's cooking tasted like rotten flesh and MIhawk's cooking was done with too much wine. He was craving his afternoon snacks of rice balls and his midnight sake. He didn't realize how spoiled he was. And a few months later, when he finally beat Mihawk's monkey he compared the peak of his elation to his fights with the cook, and he found himself missing them too.

The pointless bantering, crossing of steel legs and swords, and the scent of the damn cook when he leered at him closely.

Of course he missed his time with the rest of his crew and the life on Sunny, but it was the thought of Sanji that made him leave for Sabaody early.

 _You will eventually want to hold them_ , Perona's distinctive voice warning him buried itself inside of his head.

But not now, Zoro thought.

He didn't want to hold the cook. He wasn't worried about ruining their nakamahood or their current state of things in Sunny, but the sole fact that he had no desire to do anything physical with the cook—hold, kiss, fuck, or anything along those lines. For now, it was enough to let things be. For them to argue and fight, for Sanji to act like an absolute idiot around women, for Zoro to click his tongue in mild disdain, and for them to focus on their dreams...

After all, love wasn't an act of possession but freedom, and it was all in accordance to fate to decide for what would become of them.

"A dream is a mere dream without the man's resolve to make it a reality, but fate and the heaven's will is something outside of man's control," were some of the last words Mihawk told him.

* * *

_Cacao Island/Whole Cake Island (Zoro)_

"You're probably all worried about Sanji! Aren'tcha?" his captain asked with a grin on his face, finding his first mate sitting right outside the door.

"Don't make me kick your ass. I told you to leave that idiot alone," he grumbled, wondering how the fuck Luffy could read his mind so effortlessly. Without a doubt, the raven haired man had the best instincts out of the three of them, and Zoro would not be surprised if he'd also managed to pick up on his hidden feelings toward Sanji.

"Shi shi shi," his captain laughed.

 _That idiot sacrificed himself for us again_.

He wasn't surprised, but perhaps he was 'worried' as his captain suggested.

Sanji's prideful and sacrificial nature made this situation a perfect opportunity to throw himself away to save others. The cook's a damn reliable nakama, strong too, especially after those two years apart, but nonetheless he alone isn't enough against a yonko and her entire crew. Zoro was worried that he would reject any helping hand reaching for him, using whatever excuse he could muster up to preserve that annoying nature of his.

_And knowing that idiot, he's probably all lovey dovey in this marriage._

"Zoro," Luffy interrupted his train of thoughts with a confident smile on his face. "Don't worry, I will never lose him. I'll make sure to bring him back to us." He emitted the same aura as he always did when making a promise.

A smile cracked in that stoic expression of his, ridiculing even the idea of losing their cook.

"I'll leave him to you, captain."

* * *

_Cacao Island/Whole Cake Island (Sanji)_

Was it foolish to believe that in the midst of the shit storm he was in, being kidnapped by his family who had abused him in his early childhood and forcefully married off to a daughter of Big Mom, that there might be light? Some sort of hope to grasp?

He wanted to believe that Pudding was the light of his life, his soulmate, his fated lover who could help him ease the pain and guilt of leaving his crew.

_Fuck…_

The rain was pouring down on him, so harshly that it felt like pellets against his skin. He kept flicking his golden lighter with his thumb, a habit he had whenever he felt like shit. Desperately trying to get a pull out of his cigarette. And god, he had never needed one so badly before.

Instead of the light he'd hoped for, tears began to fall instead, blending and becoming one with the rain drops falling so heavy and fast out of the sky.

Was he heartbroken? Of course he was. For a brief moment, he did fall in love with Pudding, or at least the idea of her. He'd done the whole skit inside of his head of settling down with the brown haired, chocolate making, sweet as sugar Pudding. Every ounce of him wanted it to be true.

He was a pervert, yes, but even more so he was a romantic.

As stupid as it sounded, he wanted his first time to be with someone he loved deeply and he thought, hoped, that Pudding was the 'one'. Just like he did with Violet and Nami, the list going all the way back to the moment he hit puberty.

So why did he cry when he stood outside of Pudding's window? He wasn't fooled by her act; no, of course not. He was a fool for women, but he wasn't a total idiot. He gave her a fifty fifty possibility that she was using him, that she was actually working for Big Mom and her charm was something she wore to fool others. It was something he felt, to the core of his being.

He is an optimist and he especially can't think straight around beautiful women, but his instincts are as strong as marimo's or his captain's. He could see through a woman's mask, straight to her heart.

The reason he cried though, despite knowing Pudding's goodhearted nature, was because she saw _it_ —for the first time, someone else saw him as the pathetic loser he saw himself as. The way his family ingrained _it_ into the core of his identity. The root of the tree buried beneath the ground, branches sprawling out with _it_ as its base.

He didn't hate Pudding. He didn't mind marrying her, or even being killed by her if it meant she would live a happier life. In _that_ way he was stupid for women. Even at the cost of his life, he would do anything for a woman's happiness.

Except now, he was able to think straight, with the illusion of her shattered into almost invisible pieces.

He saw the reality of his situation. His family, Big Mom, and Luffy.

Sanji desperately wanted to return to his crew, more so after his heartbreak, but he was ashamed, guilty. He had his reasons for why he left. For Zeff, for his crew, for their dreams...

 _What about All Blue!?_ the swordsman's voice shouted over and over inside his head, like a fucking mantra or a buzzing mosquito. _What about your dream, you fucking idiot!_

 _Shut up, you damn marimo_ , he responded inside of his head. _I made up my mind. This is my fate._

 _Fate is outside of your own volition. It's not something you can control_ , the voice told him and Sanji stayed silent this time.

Sanji didn't _want_ to be saved. He wasn't a goddamn damsel in distress, dammit! He didn't want to hinder his nakama from their goal of defeating Kaido, or be the reason for the death of his family in Baratie. And he definitely did not want them getting involved with the messy past of his that should've been buried a long time ago.

 _Idiot, just trust your fucking nakama. Luffy is going to be the King of Pirates_ , the marimo's voice advised him in that condescending tone of his.

Even in his own imagination, he managed to tick Sanji off.

But for once in his life, he decided to face _it_ —the guilt, the shame, the constant reminders in his head that he was nothing but a pathetic loser, the painful emotions that his family had inflicted inside of him; the suffocating demon he had locked away deep inside of him.

 _Shithead, I'm not going to die nor am I going to let anybody else die_.

Images of Zeff, Baratie kitchen staff, and his nakama were floating in his head.

_Good, I'll see you in Wano then._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm supposed to be working on "Karma" but I couldn't help it. I wanted to finish this fic and see where it would lead me.  
> I'm already 3/4 through the third and possibly the last chapter of this story, so it won't be that long of a wait before the next upload. 
> 
> I am also extremely appreciative of everybody who stayed by my stories, any new incomers, and those leaving behind comments and kudos. 
> 
> And before you continue, this chapter is M rating :D

_Wano Arc_

Meeting Zoro in Wano was a complete accident. 

The two of them had jumped out to protect a little girl who was smiling and crying simultaneously, hovering over her father who was crumpled in his own pool of blood. 

Next to him, with his leg set on fire, the swordsman only had a single sword out. His other arm was protectively wrapped around the girl’s head, specifically her eyes. Perhaps to cover her sight from the horrid man who wanted to kill her. 

They were both pissed the fuck off. Though that anger had little to do with seeing one another but toward the fucker with the gun pointed at Toko.

It has been ages since he last saw Zoro, or at least that’s the way it felt. He would’ve not recognized the swordsman if it hadn’t been for his green hair, which he swore reminded him of a damn marimo. A distant ancestor of his, he assumed. In the middle of the chaos they had been thrust into, he felt slightly relieved to find the swordsman by his side again. 

_Hah, my bounty is higher than yours, mosshead!_ he thought with a smirk, in the midst of their run. 

But that elation deflated the instant he saw some hottie hanging off of the swordsman’s neck.

_How the fuck is that dumbass more popular with woman than me?!_

All humor aside, he felt as though a stone that he had been dragging around all his life had finally been cut loose. He was forced to be vulnerable with Luffy, Nami, Chopper, and Brook who experienced firsthand how cruel his blood relatives were; and despite the fact he did something as unforgivable as beat up his captain (harder than usual) and turned his back on Nami-san, they received him back with kindness and open arms. It was the sort of thing that cleansed him of his heavy baggage. 

He felt happier. His heart freed from the chains of the past. 

Zoro noticed the difference in the blond’s attitude. The way he smiled more, engaged with his crew without that distant look in his eyes, and approached the swordsman without any pent up anger. 

It still irritated the hell out of him, though, when Sanji mentioned the sudden difference in their bounty (only 10,000,000 beri apart!). He didn’t know the details of what occurred, but he assumed it had to do with Sanji’s, supposedly, infamous family. 

But beneath his stoic expression was a beating heart that was excited to see him again. 

_Sanji… Sanji…!_

Did he have his doubts about this woman-loving idiot? Of course he did. At the drop of a hat, Sanji was the type of character to run toward a crying woman, woman in danger, or any women in general. He didn’t know how the hell Luffy did it, but he dragged his ass back to the crew. 

Though, deep inside he knew that Sanji’s priorities lied in the crew. 

_Did you think about me, cook? You worried the hell out of me_ , he thought, words he would never say out loud. 

The new sword he received pulsed in his hands. 

Enma, it was called. A dark colored katana, one of the 21 O Wazamono grade swords and once wielded by Kozuki Oden. It hung around in the back of his mind; lingering, waiting with its bloodthirsty aura, for Zoro’s mind to be weakened. It took all of his willpower to restrain its monstrous energy. 

The chaos of Wano was unfolding, but his heartbeat was with the rhythm of the cook in front of him. His hair tied up like his own, wearing a loose yukata and a leisure smile on his face despite the impending war in this country (though, to be fair, they were pretty used to this shit by now). 

Enma sensed it all, and the image of a dark shadow with a coy smile was in his head. 

_The moment you let your guard down, I will eat you alive,_ she seemed to say. 

The sense of longing, like hunger for food or thirst for water. He had to keep it at bay in order to control the demon he decided to be his new sword. 

_Keep these feelings away. Focus on what's in front of you_ . Not literally though, he told himself, as the cook pranced around in front of him wearing a dumb expression on his face. _On Wano, on Kaido… and on Mihawk._

* * *

Despite his iron will to keep the blond at bay, it all seemed to crumble in an instant. 

It was understandable since his emotions were going haywire and his heart was erratically pulsing, with the blond’s masculine arm wrapped around his neck. His pale, ivory hand roughly combing his green hair in an upward direction, sending shudders down his spine and directly to his…

_Fuck, fuck..._

He was losing control, slipping from his hold on his mind and body, easily succumbing to the pleasures of Sanji’s lips tracing down the side of his neck. The blond was clumsy, for sure. It was clear that he wasn’t very experienced and his desire showed so plainly in his pants that Zoro would’ve made fun of him if he wasn’t so taken aback. 

_A virgin_? he wondered, his dick twitching slightly in response, throbbing from the very thought of taking Sanji into his arms and grinding into him slowly. 

He imagined that Sanji would ride him at his own pace with those powerful legs. His face, one of pure ecstasy. His voice, loud and demanding, filthy as it is during the day except it would be combined with his cries and moans. 

When he thought back to the earlier events of the day, it all seemed to be normal. The cook kicked him around, there were some petty fights, and the crew ate around the table. 

Nothing gave away that the blond would barge into the bathroom in the middle of the afternoon and give him a kiss. The sort of a kiss that made his knees weak, not because the cook was an amazing kisser but because it was _Sanji_. His hands cupped the swordsman’s sharp jawline, tracing it slowly with his calloused hands before dipping his head forward, slowly; his breath, as he had always imagined, smelling like cigarettes and all sorts of spices, hitting his nostrils before he felt those warm and soft lips against his own.

It wasn’t a wet kiss, nor was there too much tongue. It was just a kiss that made him dizzy for a few seconds. When he regained consciousness, he found himself with Sanji’s arms around his neck and lips pressed against his. 

His restraints broke in an instant. That same moment, one of Brook’s violin strings snapped when he pressed the bow down too forcefully. 

Waves and waves of pent up longing and desire is broken out of him, pouring into the man pressed against Zoro. He grabbed the cook by the back of the neck and pulled him close, kissing him to devour him, to suck the living soul out of his body, and to intrude into every corner of his mouth. 

To call this passion would be an understatement, as every fiber of his being cried out for Sanji. 

* * *

(a few week prior)

He sucked the last bit of nicotine out of his cig, which was his fifth one for the day. 

A feat, since the sun hadn’t even peeked out yet. He chewed on the ends and desperately ran his tongue around the base, trying to lick off any remaining taste of what reminded him of his childhood. The bitter flavors of his creation when he was younger, when his mother was still alive.

He was leaning against the rails, his exposed elbows against the cold wooden surface as his sleeves were rolled up, and his chin resting on his palm. This was his favorite part of the day, watching the sun rise above the calm ocean water and the crisp morning air sharply entering his lungs along with the taste of his cig. He heard the music of the sea, the sky, and the soft snores of his crewmates sleeping below him.

“Good morning, Cook-san,” a woman’s voice spoke behind him, poised and elegant; similar to the light breeze he felt against his skin. 

He smelled the brewed coffee before he saw it in her hands. She and Brook were the only ones who drank coffee in the morning, and so he prepared a small batch for them as soon as he woke up. 

“Robin-san, you’re up early today!” he remarked with a beaming smile on his face. He felt warmth spreading across him when he met the affectionate gaze of the raven haired woman in front of him.

It is true that the women on the ship are to die for, and because he isn’t a freak of nature like Luffy and Zoro, he admittedly yearns for them from time to time. 

She smiled prettily in response, slight creases in the corners of her almond shaped eyes. 

She brought the coffee to her lips, which Sanji knew by heart had a spoonful of milk and no sugar.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” she commented, both of them well knowing how peaceful it is at that moment compared to some of the tumultuous and unbelievable situations they’ve experienced together. 

“It’s moments like this that’ll make me miss this ship, everybody here, and the adventures we had,” she spoke wistfully, memories that had so much weight on Sanji as well. 

He responded softly, looking out at the sea instead of the beautiful woman next to him, “I always thought the dream was what mattered the most, but now I realize more than ever the voyage is the heart of the journey.”

“What do you want to do after Luffy becomes the Pirate King?” she asked, without a hint of doubt that their captain would be the first one to reach Raftel.

Sanji had thought about this question on his own, of course, as the reality was that their adventure would not last forever and they’d all eventually have to go on their separate paths. He imagined that the rest of his crew might make their way back to their home islands to be with their loved ones, but it’d also be difficult to stay given their bounties and infamous reputations. 

He had no idea where Luffy and Zoro would be, as they’d most likely be chased down no matter where they are in the world. 

“If All Blue exists, then I would have to tell Zeff,” he told her with a childlike grin on his face, an expression that only arises at the mention of his legendary sea.

His gut churned in excitement, at the thought that he was so close to his dream.

“How about you, Robin-chan?” 

She shook her head, “I have nowhere to go and no one to see after this adventure. I’m sure Usopp will marry that girl back in his hometown, Nami will be with her sister, Brook will play his violin for Laboon, Franky will see his three sisters and Iceberg, but for me… the only family I have is here.” 

Despite such a lonely statement, she had a reassuring smile on her face. “But I have no regrets about living, cook-san” she told him, referring to when Luffy had saved her back in Alabasta. 

Sanji stared at her without a word, forgetting to continue the conversation. 

He didn’t know what sort of expression he had, but it led to that mysterious smile of hers and the following question: “Do you have any regrets?” which, quite honestly, he didn’t have an answer to. And he found himself thinking about her question a few hours later, as he stood in front of a burning stove with another cigarette squeezed in between his teeth. His crewmates were awake and running around outside of his door, their laughter and Brook’s violin ringing in his ears.

Although he was still on Sunny, in the midst of his adventure, there was a sense of nostalgia at the thought that this adventure would come to an end someday. 

He regretted nothing about this adventure. If he could go back to the moment when Luffy asked Sanji to come along, he would say ‘yes’ a thousand times without a beat; yet, there was this undeniable sticky feeling inside of him. 

Sanji had this same exact feeling, a squeeze around his heart, when he and the Baratie chefs fought before he left. 

The moment Zeff told him, “Don’t catch a cold out there, Eggplant,” he instantly recognized that feeling in his heart and kneeled in front of the man who saved his life, to thank him for raising him like his own son. 

If he had walked away without a word, he would have left with regrets weighing down his heart. 

“Oi, Cook, can I have some sake?” a familiar, aggravating voice peeked inside the kitchen, and Sanji threw his head back to see the swordsman standing by the door. “And some onigiris.”

The blond raised a curious brow, the grip around his heart loosening the instant he saw Zoro. 

“Oh, shit,” he cursed, reminded of the time and his ritualistic duties to the crew. “I forgot to bring my flowers their afternoon fruit parfaits!” 

The green haired man rolled his eyes as the cook scampered around the kitchen trying to make two fruit parfaits for Robin and Nami, leaving Zoro completely forgotten by the door. 

The swordsman, with a resigned shrug, headed to his usual spot in the crow’s nest where he could catch a shade from an unusually beaming sun. When he was thirty minutes into his nap, he was interrupted by the cook’s presence who had skywalked to the nest with sake and onigiris in hand. 

“Oi, wake up, marimo. I brought your snacks,” Sanji brusquely told him with that flat voice of his when addressing men, in contrast to his high pitched howls when addressing his counterpart. 

Zoro opened his one eye, a deep scowl etched on his face.

“I know, I know, I forgot, but I had to take care of the ladies first. They _can’t_ miss out on their afternoon parfaits,” he exasperated, as he placed the plate of onigiris and an entire bottle of sake by the man’s side. 

Without another word the cook slid down next to him, as Zoro’s fingers eagerly dug into the salmon onigiri that was seasoned perfectly (as usual) and gulped down the sake bottle in its entirety. The taste was smoother and sweeter than usual, though he didn’t mind the bitter shit either. He knew that Sanji had pulled out the expensive shit from the back to make up for his forgetfulness without having to directly apologize to Zoro..

The blond lit up a cigarette and exhaled, masquing a sigh with the smoke curling out of his tongue. 

“Oi, what’s with you? That’s like your fifteenth one of the day, can’t you take a break?” the man scolded, as he ironically drank his sake like water. 

Sanji stared at him with his one visible eye and a curious look on his face. It was true that his throat was burning from all that smoke, but why did it matter to Zoro? He never seemed to give a shit in the past. 

From his wordless and expressionless response, the green haired man stammered, “Quit staring at me like that, idiot, I’m just _asking_.”

 _Is he blushing?_ Sanji wondered, shaken by the raw and vulnerable expression of embarrassment the swordsman gave him.

Ever since the crew had entered the New World, they rarely found a chance to relax and breathe like they were doing now; stuck in the vortex of a continual momentum, dealing with yonkos and pirates left and right. 

Admittedly, it took a toll on Sanji, who was not only caught up in that vortex but had to undergo many heartbreaking and emotionally draining experiences. 

He had been desperate for love, especially from a woman’s heart. The only place he thought he could find himself and fill up the void within; but through heartbreak after heartbreak and receiving a subtle (still shitty) acceptance he thought he would never get from his biological family, he found himself fuller than ever. 

“We all have our poisons, shithead,” he grumbled. “What do you care, anyways?” 

After traveling with the swordsman for years now, he found a sense of comfort and synchronicity with the man, which he would never admit out loud. But in battle or in Sunny, even in their arguments and fights, they found a flow similar to the three swords Zoro wielded. As though they were meant to move together; two waves melding into one. 

It was almost eerie how synced they were, as the green haired man was always there wherever Sanji needed him to be, and wanted at times. Without any conscious realization, the cook came to rely on the swordsman’s broad shoulders, knowing it’ll always be by his side.

“Because you smoke out of worry. I just drink because of the taste,” Zoro responded with a slight roll of his eye, as though the answer was so obvious and Sanji was stupid to not notice those things about himself. 

“I don’t fucking smoke out worry,” the cook screeched, before catching himself on his high strain of emotions. “Maybe a little bit,” he admitted hesitantly, reluctant to open up to this green haired dunce whom he’d only had a serious conversation with once in the past. He didn’t even know if Zoro had the capacity to talk about stuff beyond swords and fighting; he wasn’t like Robin or Nami, whom he could share intimate conversations with. 

“About what?” he asked as he tipped the bottle to his lips again, trails of liquid spilling out of the corners of his lips and onto his exposed ankle. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that our crew is messing with Yonkos now and we have every one of the strongest marines and pirates in the world after us?” he huffed, sarcasm oozing out his every word. 

The swordsman chuckled, “That’s always been the case, so why are you worrying about it now?” 

“Oi, take me seriously, shitty marimo,” he scolded irritably, annoyed by how lightly Zoro was treating his worries but also by how easily he swayed Sanji’s heart to lighten up. “It’s not just _that_ . It’s just, _how_ are we going back to our lives in East Blue or _what_ are we going to do after we reach our dreams? After Luffy becomes the Pirate King, you become the greatest swordsman, and I find my All Blue; then what?” 

There were some things the green haired man wanted to say in response to his concerns, but he held his tongue. This was not the time for a confession. As much as he wanted to announce his plans to be with the cook, whether that was to continue venturing around the world or settle down at a restaurant to help his business flourish, it didn’t matter as long as they were together. 

“We’re so close to the end, y’know? It makes me happy but… don’t fucking laugh… it also makes me scared of losing what we have now,” Sanji confessed with another sigh, instinctively lighting himself another one.

“I’m not laughing,” Zoro assured him, though it came out more stern than he’d intended. 

“Great,” the cook sarcastically remarked. He didn’t mean to be such a bitch, but he was disappointed and slightly embarrassed by his own confessions. It was his first time showing Zoro who he was under all that tough act, but here _he_ was sitting in front of him, hardly saying a word.

“Remember at Sabaody, when Rayleigh asked Luffy why he wants to be the Pirate King?” the green haired man asked, finally breaking the silence that Sanji had been interrupting with his deep inhales. 

The cook stared at him with that same curious gaze he had earlier, except this time he responded, “the Pirate King is the freest man of the sea. I remember.”

Zoro nodded. “When Luffy is the Pirate King and I am the greatest swordsman in the world, and you find your All Blue and everybody else fulfill their dreams, we will still be on Sunny until we’re ready to go somewhere else, because we are _free_ to do whatever we want to do.” 

And for the first time, Sanji saw the green haired man’s face breaking into a smile. Of course, he saw Zoro’s smile before but it has never been directed at _Sanji_. 

As hard as it was to admit, there was something utterly beautiful about the way he innocently squinted, with the edges of his eyes wrinkling, and a flash of his teeth that was neither a condescending smirk or accompanied with a killing aura. 

He felt the squeeze in his chest again, hearing the pounding in his ears. It was heavier, louder, and faster than he’d ever experienced before. 

“ _Do you have any regrets?_ ” Robin asked him again inside the deep crevice of his mind.

* * *

“Sanji-kun,” she spoke. The red haired woman, lying on her back with a strawberry parfait in her hand, soaking in the sun with every exposed skin except for the thin bikini she wore to cover her privates. 

She. Was. So. Fuckable. 

Sanji couldn’t help it. He was a _man_ , goddammit, and he couldn’t help but drool at the sight of this stunning woman lying in front of her. Her near naked body was absolute perfection. A true goddess, who was able to beat Aphrodites at her own game of beauty. Her supple skin. Those massive, bouncy breasts. He wondered how erotic she would sound at his touch. 

“What’s been going on with you and Zoro?”

At the sudden mention of the green haired man, every ounce of desire he had toward her halted; an image of ships crashing into Bartolomew’s barriers, one by one. 

“Wha—”

“Robin and I were speculating that you guys have been...” she stumbled off, followed by a horrible silence that seemed to choke him out of his breath. “You know,” she said with a small coy smile, which would’ve been cute if it hadn’t for the _implication_ that—that—.

“Zoro and I are fucking?” he crassly finished his own thoughts out loud while drawing clear of what she was implying, before realizing what he had just said in front of a _lady_ . He cleared his throat. “Pardon my language, Nami-san. But why would you and Robin think that about us? I mean, he’s a _man_ ,” he sputtered the last word as though it was the most vile thing he’d ever tasted and had to spit out. 

The beautiful woman sat up and her breasts trembled softly from the sudden movement, threatening to spill out of the little fabric holding them up. 

She was looking up at him with a frown. This time he had no room to think of her as cute. Her gaze was full of disappointment, similar to a mother’s, and he, a child who’d failed to meet her expectations. 

“Sanji-kun, what if I was Zoro?” 

The question baffled him. _What if Nami-san was that green haired buffoon?_

His cigarette hung limply, as he stood by her side with his mouth agape. “What do you mean, Nami-san? Like, if Law switched your bodies?” he asked, which was unfortunately the most logical explanation to her question. 

She sighed, “Sure. If Zoro’s was in my body, what would you do?”

“Well,” he began hesitantly, unable to grasp the true meaning of her words. “If you’re asking whether I would take advantage of your body, then no. I am a gentleman and even if that marimo was _you_ , I would never do anything that’s outside of your consent.” 

He was pretty satisfied with his answer but the look of disappointment on Nami’s face told him that he’d completely missed the mark. 

“Sanji-kun, if Zoro’s soul was in my body and he both gave you the full consent to _fuck_ him, what would you do?” 

The blond’s eyes widened, surprised by the sudden vulgarity spilling out of such a delicate flower’s mouth, and even more so when he understood the true meaning behind her question. “Marimo and I?” he asked, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand, why would that ever be—”

“Just answer,” she snapped, losing her already thin patience. 

Sanji imagined the swordsman in Nami’s obviously stunning body. Of _course_ he’d be attracted, even if it contained that damn marimo’s soul. It’d be an honor to have sex with such a beautiful woman. Except, Zoro would distort Nami-san’s face with that aggravating smirk of his and lazily sprawl out during the afternoons, without a care in the world that normal human beings sleep at night. He’d probably complain about her frail arms but still manage to be badass with his three swords, though it would be weird seeing the sword in her mouth (no pun intended!). 

He hesitantly nodded, slight shame in admitting that he was only attracted to Nami for her looks. 

Instead of scolding him, she had a wide catlike smirk on her face, as though he had fallen right into her trap. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy for being shallow, Sanji-kun, but try to remember that attraction isn’t all there is to love,” she advised with an understanding smile that made Sanji ‘fall in love’ with her all the more.

He thought about this conversation for a few days, deciding that it wasn’t _just_ her looks that he was interested in. Nami-san was quite an individual, after all, and her personality was well matched with his; but it was true, the root of his attraction was for Nami-san’s looks. 

Sanji felt frustrated with this discovery within himself, reflecting on all of his past attractions that hadn’t gone well. 

The crew had dropped their anchor by a small island, or should he say _islands_ that were connected by man made, steel bridges, with each island having its own unique street markets or industrialized buildings. For example, the two girls were on the biggest island that had massive shopping malls; while Luffy and the rest of the guys had split up on the hunt for food or any other necessary materials to aid their journey. 

And as usual, Sanji was on food duty with Zoro as his pack mule. The two of them bickering almost the entire way about the swordsman’s habit of getting lost and the cook’s obsession with beautiful women. 

“Mademoiselle _this_ and _that_ ,” the man mocked him with an odd high pitched tone of voice, his hands in front of him in an obscenely gayish mannerisms. 

“I don’t do that!” Sanji screeched, the octaves rising higher than Zoro’s mockery of Sanji.

The green haired man smirked, with an invisible tally above his head to give himself another point for aggravating the shit out of the cook. 

Sanji was especially grouchy for the fact that he had ended up with the swordsman (yet again!) and worried about how others would perceive him, cringing from the realization that Robin and Nami believed the two of them were— _fucking_. He groaned and took an aggressive inhale from his newly bought cigarette, which had a flavor of hazelnut and the smell of oak trees. Recently he took a break from menthol, a cool sensation that reminded him of the sea, and invested in nutty, earthy flavors.

His worries came to a halt at the sight of a beautiful Red-Finned Elephant tuna in front of him, similar to the Blue-Finned Elephant tuna that he had come across in Loguetown but even more exotic.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. 

He had seen a picture of this tuna in front of him when he was just a snot-nosed kid. The book described the taste of this tuna as a delicacy, with a texture similar to the finest beef you’d ever taste; a feeling of butter melting on your tongue and the fat to meat ratio being an absolute perfection. 

“Mister! How much is the fish?” Sanji called out to the middle-aged fisherman who wore black rainboots and a bucket hat standing behind the Red-Finned Elephant tuna. 

Despite the ‘rarity’ of the fish, the old man’s stand was quite empty, as most of the attraction had gone to the takoyaki stand a few steps away from them. 

He glanced at the two men, one dressed in a nice black suit and the other in a casual green robe, with three swords hanging on the side of his waist. He wasn’t sure what to make of them, but knew for certain that they weren’t regulars to these islands. 

“Well, young man, you must already know how rare this Red-Finned Elephant tuna is,” he goaded, feeling the desperation oozing out of the blond fellow despite the forced nonchalance in his expression. 

“For _you_ since you seem like a nice young man, I’m really pushing it here, but I could make it a million beri. How ‘bout it?” 

Zoro saw the visible mouth drop on the cook’s face, and felt the sinking of his heart. A million beri was a lot for a damn fish, and it was certainly too high for the budget Nami had given them earlier. 

With gritted teeth, Sanji asked, “Can’t you do it for any cheaper, old man?”

The fisherman frowned. He didn’t want to risk revealing the fact that the Red-Finned Elephant tuna wasn’t such a rare catch around these islands, but it sure was a hell of a work to reel one in so he wanted his efforts to be paid for. Luckily, all of the other fishermen weren’t around to tell these two men that they weren’t actually worth much. 

He feigned a sigh, “I’ll really be at a loss, but I suppose I could do half a million. How ‘bout it?” 

Sanji cursed. 

His budget for the day was one fifth of that and he wasn’t about to spend it all just for one damn fish. He had to buy a bulk of ingredients to last at least a month for his entire crew, including that damn captain of his who had an endless void for a stomach. 

“I don’t have enough. Sorry, old man.” he shrugged, feeling a slight heaviness in his steps as he walked away from such a magnificent ingredient. 

Of course he wanted it, but he wasn’t about to risk a whole month’s supply for a single piece of fish, luxurious and rare as it may be.

“Wait!” the fisherman called out, regretting his decision of putting such a ridiculously high price on the tuna, when in reality it did not have value any higher than ten thousand beris. 

The cook, however, had already turned his back on his stand and ran off, at the sudden realization that Zoro had, _yet again_ , wandered off on his own. “I’m going to kick his lost ass all the way to the sky islands when I find him!” Sanji fumed underneath his breath, as he searched every corner, food stand, and even the windows of some local houses. 

“He better not have crossed any bridges!” he huffed out, worried that it would take more than the day they had to find the swordsman. 

By the time the sun made an entire round across the sky and began to sink below the horizon, Sanji finally decided to call it quits and head back to Sunny without Zoro. He gathered the rest of the needed ingredients and carried them all on his own, cursing to himself about how useless of a pack mule the green haired man was.

To his surprise, he found Zoro taking a peaceful nap on the deck. All alone, sprawled out next to Nami’s tangerine trees. 

The rest of his crew members have not made their way back yet. 

“I was looking for your ass all day, shitty marimo! How the _hell_ did you find your way back to the ship?” the flustered blond barked at the yawning swordsman, whose mouth stretched wide and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. 

The look of disarray on Zoro’s sleepy face had the blond feeling simultaneously angry and amused. 

“I was with Nami,” the green haired man told him with another yawn.

Sanji raised a brow at his comment, “Nami-san? How did you meet her? She was in the shopping mall with Robin-san.” 

“I called her over with a den den mushi,” he explained, though it did not answer any of Sanji’s questions. 

“Why?” 

Instead of responding, the green haired man leaped up to his feet and the sound of his swords clanged against one another.

“Follow me,” he told Sanji with an enigmatic look in his eyes; and with an inquisitive, quiet stare the cook followed behind him. 

The swordsman guided him into the kitchen, which to Sanji’s relief was left untouched as he’d seen it last, and into the pantry where they stored the crew’s food supplies. 

“I got it with that witch’s thirty percent interest,” Zoro told him sheepishly, looking away from the cook and scratching the back of his head. 

“Wha—” 

Words escaped him when he looked inside the freezer, where he kept most of the crew’s meat and fish produce to satiate his captain’s needs at any point in time. Among them was the biggest and the most beautiful fish he’d ever laid his eyes on: red scales embedded between the flesh, rounded white belly, and wavy fins that reminded him of Nami-san’s cascading hair. It was the Red-Finned Elephant tuna he’d given up on earlier today.

That familiar, unidentifiable feeling rose inside of him again. 

His entire body became hot, his hands clammy with sweat, and his heart erratically pounding in his ears. He realized that it was only around the swordsman he became this way, hopelessly out of control with himself and yearning—but with what? 

Sanji reached for the tuna, feeling the rough scale against his calloused fingers. 

“Nami bargained with that fisherman to make it ten thousand beris instead of half a million, so I didn’t have to borrow much,” Zoro told him. He recalled the terrifying expression on Nami’s face when the fisherman tried the same strategies with her, except the poor old man didn’t stand a chance under that witch’s cold, unwavering gaze. 

It took less than a few seconds for him to break out into cold sweat and give them an honest price for the tuna.

“But,” Sanji began to argue, searching for the right words to express his confusion and settling with a simple: “Why?” 

He couldn’t understand Zoro’s motives, who at one point didn’t seem to give a dog’s shit about Sanji.

“Because,” the green haired man began, his already tanned skin darkening from his face to his neck, as though he was… blushing? 

“You wanted it.” 

That didn’t answer any of Sanji’s questions, yet it did simultaneously. 

The cook felt his own face heating up in response, along with the rest of his body that was erratically pulsating like he was having a damn seizure. 

Then, he suddenly understood the happenings of his body. 

He wasn’t having a seizure.

Rather, the signs were all pointing to an _arousal_? 

He _knew_ he had to get Zoro out of the kitchen before he saw his pale, ivory skin reddening, or _worse_ , the obvious outlines of his hardening arousal. Sanji hastily pushed the green haired man out of his kitchen, hearing the rest of his crew members’ voices getting closer to Sunny. 

“I have to cook dinner now,” Sanji told marimo, who appeared bewildered by the sudden closing of the door on his face.

Zoro couldn’t shake off the horrible feeling of disappointment, but asked himself: _What did I expect anyways_? 

The cook was a dumbass, but sadly he was a _straight_ dumbass with an obsession for beautiful women. 

But unbeknownst to his knowledge, on the other side of the door the cook had crumpled to the floor with flushed cheeks, having every desire to unzip the front of his pants and stroke himself calm. 

The image of the green haired man was in the front of his brain, mocking him as he had always done, except this time it seemed to be the source of his arousal; to which, Sanji had to respond with, _what the fuck_? 

Dinner that night was done effortlessly, as always, with the perfectly scaled, filleted, and cooked Red-Finned Elephant tuna sitting in the middle of the table. The high quality ingredient was brought to its highest potential in the hands of a capable chef. The meat was tender, juicy, and flavorsome. Falling apart just by being on their tongues alone; melting like a slab of butter. 

Afterwards, to Sanji’s relief, it wasn’t the swordsman’s turn to help him with his nightly chores. Instead, it was the two ladies who helped clean up the table and wash the dishes, giving him the full permission to hop into an early bath. 

He filled up the tub with scalding water, the way he liked it, and threw in a few tangerine peels that he’d picked out in the morning to release a sweet, tangy scent into the air. He dipped himself slowly into the water, feeling the vibrations shooting up his body from the sudden heat; and once he was fully submerged, except for his head, he took note of the small erection sporting between his legs.

The blond sighed. Flickers of green in his vision that refused to go away. 

Despite how hard he tried to keep his mind off of Zoro by working on the feast for his crew and smoking up a storm, here he is, in total capitulation against his own fucking libido with none other than the swordsman driving him up the wall. He was going crazy. 

He wrapped his hands around himself and hissed from the sensitivity of his head. _Think about anything but Zoro_ , he told himself. 

Sanji imagined Nami, of course, as she was usually at the forefront of his fantasies. 

He imagined her nakedness underneath him: flushed face, perky breasts, and her red hair a mess. The blond would slip his erection between her legs and she’d cry out, with a small half-smile playing around her lips. 

He stroked himself slowly to the vivid scene coming to life in his head. 

Slow thrusts in the beginning, in which both of them let out small sighs. The red haired woman would throw her head back in ecstasy, small sweat beads on her forehead, appearing completely sated and reveling in pleasure as those thrusts became deeper and faster. 

The tumble of red hair would fall like a river down the side of her bed, some stuck to her cheek from the glistening sweat. She would look like a goddess, staring into his eyes with that pretty smile of hers. Her peachy skin flushed prettily.

But in the corner of his vision, Sanji saw those familiar flickers of green, in the same scene where he was copulating with Nami. 

_Go away_ , he thought, but his hips spoke a different language than his mind as it thrusted into his pumping hand. 

_Why_ , Zoro’s voice in his head. _You seem happy to see me here_.

Once thought, the scene would not crumble, and his attention shifted to the green haired man lingering by them with a small teasing smile on his face. He desperately held onto the soft thighs of a woman and tried to avert his attention back to the sweet face of Nami’s—but instead, his excitement came from the curved, cocky lips on the man’s lips that ghosted over his own. 

The blond continued to thrust his hips, into a body of heat that was on fire, tightening all around him and shuddering in utter pleasure. 

When he looked to see the red haired woman underneath him, he found that she was no longer female. 

Broad shoulders, tanned skin, defined pectorals. Scar that ran across his entire front torso. Stupid green hair and that shit eating, condescending grin.

 _Bastard_ , he cursed, but he couldn’t deny that this was the most stimulating fantasy he’s ever had. 

He could imagine running his pale hands across those tanned, rough features and a small groan trembling out of Zoro’s lips. Sanji couldn’t help but to beat himself faster to the image of plummeting into the green haired man over and over, because he knew he’d be able to take it. He didn’t have to restrain himself, afraid that the receiver would be too fragile in his strong hold. Zoro was the strongest swordsman in the world and his eyes challenged him with every thrust, provoking Sanji to _fuck_ him.

The blond stilled as an orgasm ripped through him and into his groin, tension releasing, spurting semen thinning and dispersing into the water. 

Before he opened his eyes, he saw a final image in his vivid imagination of a blushing Zoro, like the one he’d seen earlier, that had Sanji’s heart pounding erratically and so loudly in his ears. 

Finally, as the afterglow escaped from him, confusion settled in its stead. Nagging thoughts that questioned him and pinned him to the ground. A realization he could no longer avert his eyes from, standing in the front of his consciousness. 

And a soft word spoke in the innermost realms of his psyche, feelings of confusion swallowing him whole: _What...?_


End file.
